


i want you to show me love

by spaceboy_niko



Series: he likes my taste (he likes my waist) [4]
Category: Sorted (Website) RPF
Genre: Anal Sex, Butt Plugs, Corsetry, Crossdressing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-06
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-10-05 06:35:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,912
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17319821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceboy_niko/pseuds/spaceboy_niko
Summary: “You dress up nice, Baz.”“I– no– wha– how?” Barry splutters, and Ben laughs.“I don’t just know your tongue, Barry, I know you. How long have I known you for? Long enough to recognise you even when you’re in drag.”





	i want you to show me love

Barry starts spending more time at Mike’s, playing around with his face in the bathroom mirror and his waist in the bedroom mirror. Jessica becomes more than just a name – she’s a headspace he goes into when he’s all dressed up.

Mike indulges this in every possible way. For his birthday, Mike buys him another corset, this one snowy white and trimmed in black with matching stockings and garters. They spend hours in front of the mirror with both corsets, until Barry’s waist is almost a caricature of femininity – his already-slight figure goes beyond passing as a woman to a fetish convention-goer.

Mike also keeps dressing him up, in dresses and skirts and the clothes he may have definitely stolen off James that are way too big on him.

Then, one night, as Mike is lacing him into his favourite pink corset, he feels a bit braver than normal.

“Let’s go out tonight,” he says.

Mike yanks the laces a bit further than he should and Barry yelps.

“Sorry, sorry,” Mike hurriedly says as he loosens the lacing and Barry takes a few breaths. “What were you thinking of?”

“I dunno, nothing crazy. I don’t think I’d wanna hit up the gay bars or anything yet.”

“Fair enough,” Mike laughs, tying him off. “What do you say we go out for dinner tonight, then?” He hesitates a moment before letting go of the ends. “D’you want me dressed up, too?”

Barry eyes himself and Mike over in the mirror. They’re an attractive couple like this, he can’t deny it – his curves complement Mike’s angles, and Mike’s now grown back his scruff where Barry is soft and smooth.

“No,” he replies.

So Mike changes out of his sweatpantsand into his chinos and a button-down, and Barry finishes off his face and hair and finds a dress that he can finish with a belt to emphasise his waistline.

“Now I know how straight guys feel when they complain about their girlfriends taking forever,” Mike jokes as Barry tugs on his shoes.

They go to a little Thai place down the road from Mike’s, one they’ve never been to together, and they share a curry and rice and a pad thai, and Mike holds Barry’s hand over the table and smiles at him so fondly it makes his heart do funny things.

“We should do this again,” Mike says.

So they do.

Sometimes Mike’s the one dressed up, leggy and blonde and way taller than Barry. They get more looks like that, partly because even without heels Mike is a good half a foot taller than Barry.

Sometimes they’re both dressed up, and they share a bottle of champagne and a tapas plate and cackle like middle-aged women at a book club, and no one pays them any mind because they’re just another couple of drunk girls in an Uber home, doing what every Uber-ful of drunk girls is doing.

But when Barry’s the one dressed up, they’re a stunning duo. Even in heels, Barry is still shorter than Mike, and so he wears short skirts and heels that make his legs look a mile long, and people give them looks that are reserved for conventionally attractive couples – looks that show they notice, but don’t care.

* * *

Barry is just beginning the process of dressing up when both his and Mike’s phones buzz with a message from Jamie inviting them out for drinks.

“I don’t wanna get out of this, though,” Barry whinges as Mike reads the message aloud to him.

Mike’s in the middle of tapping out a reply when he stops.

“You don’t have to,” he says, thoughtfully.

Barry raises an eyebrow.

“Well, they don’t know about Jessica, do they? Don’t open the message, say you didn’t see it until too late, and just come along with me. You’re a stunner, Baz, they’ll barely recognise you, come on, please?” Mike wheedles.

“Fine,” Barry says, as if he’d needed all the convincing in the world. “Can you lace me up?”

Mike tightens the corset, but not to the point of pinup-exaggeration, and picks out a sea-green skater dress.

“Go tuck, and do your face. I’ll be waiting here for another half hour.”

* * *

Predictably, they’re the last ones to arrive, and Barry doesn’t try and flinch his hand out of Mike’s when they get in sight of the guys. James, Ben and Jamie all have half-full pints on the table in front of them, and they make appreciative noises when Barry walks up with Mike.

“Evening, boys, this is Jessica, d’you mind if she joins us?” Mike squeezes Barry’s hand reassuringly and Barry waves timidly.

“Not at all, Mike, not at bloody all,” Jamie says with a wink.

Barry laughs, pitching his voice a little higher and forcing the air out quicker so he sounds less like Barry and more like Jessica. It’s strange – it feels like they should recognise him because he recognises them, but now he knows what it’s like to be on the receiving end of their little group’s silent judgement.

Mike heads off to buy them both drinks, and suddenly Barry feels very vulnerable. He’s dreading the imminent small talk, because while he is Jessica, Jessica has nowhere near the developed backstory that Barry has.

And of course the first thing Ben asks him is, “So, Jessica, how did you meet Mike?”

Barry decides that the best thing to do is wing it.

“University, actually, we shared a couple of units and we’ve only recently got back in touch–"

“Oh, so you might have known our friend Barry then, too,” James half-interrupts. “He and Mike shared some photography tuts, but we didn’t get a reply from him today.”

Barry tries to look as though he’s racking his brains, tries to recall his own classmates, and shakes his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell, sorry. Mike’s probably a little disappointed, he was so excited about me meeting his friends. You know, new friends meeting old friends and all that.”

Mercifully, Mike returns with a pint for himself and a vodka soda for Barry, and the conversation swings back into the normal – football, Sorted, the weather, whatever philosophical bullshit they always end up on. It’s weird, because these are all conversations Barry can and does have with the guys, but they’re topics that Jessica isn’t ingratiated enough to join in with. He’ll interject every so often, keeping his talking to a minimum, and watches them all carefully.

Jamie gives him as much attention as he’s given all the other girls introduced to the group – enough to make him feel welcome, but not enough to seem like the overly interested friend.

James keeps flicking his gaze between Barry and Mike, as if trying to figure out how Mike, the resident disaster bisexual, managed to snag someone like Jessica. It’s endearing, the way he tries to look interested in the conversation but the constant underlying confusion that keeps coming through.

Ben stares, and for a moment Barry is worried. He knows the analytical gaze Ben is fixing him with, and tries not to make too much eye contact with him, busying himself with looking interested in what Mike has to say and adjusting his clothes.

He smooths a bit of hair behind his ear and when he goes back to look at Ben, he’s fully immersed in the conversation – not even a half-glance towards Barry.

That is, until James glances at his phone. “It’s getting late, and I’ve got shit to do tomorrow. Don’t know about you lot, but I’m packing in.”

The others make various noises of agreement, and Ben follows up with, “Mike, d’you mind if I take Jess home with me? I’m not too far a walk from here, she can crash on a couch if need be.”

Mike shrugs. “She’s a strong independent woman. It’s your call, Jess.”

Barry’s heart thuds in his ears as Ben gives him that searching look again. “Sure, why not. I can always get a ride home if he turns out to be a serial killer.”

“It’s Ebbers, Jess, you’ve got more chance of being killed by a hamster than by Ben,” Jamie quips.

They all filter out – thank God Mike insisted on paying for both of their drinks – and Barry follows after Ben like he doesn’t know the way.

They walk in silence for a while, until Ben says, “You dress up nice, Baz.”

“I– no– wha– _how_?” Barry splutters, and Ben laughs.

“I don’t just know your tongue, Barry, I know _you_. How long have I known you for? Long enough to recognise you even when you’re in drag,” Ben explains, “but even then, I wasn’t sure until I saw your tattoo.”

“Ah, shit,” Barry says eloquently. “I’ll cover it next time.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t think either of them noticed. How long have you been–"

“Well, I bought this corset while I was in Switzerland and Mike first put me in a wig and heels about two months after I got back.”

“When you were– _Jesus_ , Baz, I’ve been missing out on all this?”

“I didn’t want your fuck drawer anywhere near me at first, I was hard enough just in the corset!”

Ben snorts a laugh at Barry’s words, and they round a corner to Ben’s house.

“In all seriousness, though,” Ben says once he’s recovered and unlocked the door, “would you mind if I saw?”

“The corset? Not at all. My shitty job of tucking? Now _that_ I’d mind.”

“I’ll let you…untuck then? Is that what you call it?”

Ben holds open the door for Barry, who makes a beeline for the bathroom and peels off the duct tape with no small amount of cursing and attempting to rub feeling back into his dick, before pulling his underwear back up and heading back out to Ben.

Ben still has that searching expression on his face, as if he’s conflicted about Barry’s presence.

“I can– I can take off my makeup, change out of this–"

“No!” Ben says forcefully, then repeats himself more evenly. “No, no, it’s fine, you’re wonderful, I just– I can’t believe that you can look like this, Baz.”

“Wanna see how the magic happens?” Barry asks cheekily.

Ben nods slowly. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

Every look he gives Barry is a question, asking if it’s okay for him to step closer, unzip the back of his dress, slide it off his shoulders and let it fall onto the ground, leave him in his thigh-highs and heels and corset and panties.

“Fucking _hell_ ,” Ben whispers, running a hand over Barry’s waist. “Is this as…small as your waist goes, because that’s–“

“I can go tighter, if you want,” Barry rushes.

Ben looks like he’s won the lottery. “Ditch the bra, though, I think I like Barry more than Jessica.”

Barry can’t help a smile as he fumbles with the clasp at the back. “I think Barry likes you more than Jessica does.”

Ben stretches up to kiss him softly, pulling him down by the back of his neck and dislodging his wig as his bra hits the ground. Barry returns it just as tentatively, taking off his wig with one hand and keeping the other on Ben’s waist.

Barry breaks the kiss to put the wig down safely, and Ben rubs lipstick off his mouth and pouts. “You’re too tall in those heels, your mouth is so far away.”

“Have to get me on some level ground, then, won’t you?” Barry says in what he hopes is a suggestive tone.

“Well, I want to tighten that corset of yours first, if you don’t mind.” Ben says it so matter-of-factly, like he’s giving Barry things to do at work, that the actual gravity of the words is lost at first.

“You know how to tighten a corset?” Barry asks warily.

Ben huffs. “Of course I do. What kind of person do you think I am?”

Ben is gentler and slower than Mike, partly because Ben’s never laced him up before and partly because Barry is already almost as tight as he can go – he really doesn’t want Ben going too far too quickly, and says as much.

Barry is not at all worried as Ben laces him up, and when he tells Ben to stop, there’s a look as Ben ties the laces off and spins him back around.

“Jesus Christ, Barry, you’ve got an hourglass figure sand would have a hard time getting through.”

Barry laughs – what kind of compliment is that? – but he’s very proud of his tiny, tiny waist. He rummages through his stuff on Ben’s floor and digs out his phone, flipping the camera around to face him and finding what he knows is his best angle, before sending a series of more-than-suggestive selfies to Mike.

 

_ebbers is more fun than i thought_

 

Mike replies a lot faster than he normally does.

 

_lookin good jess_

_if ur not knackered come back and have some fun w me after_

 

Barry grins as he tosses down his phone and Ben leads him to the bedroom, sitting him down on the bed and kissing him from where he stands. The feeling of Ben being taller than him, having an obvious element of control over him sends a thrill down his spine as Ben deepens the kiss again, pushing him down towards the mattress and balancing himself with a knee between Barry’s half-stockinged thighs and a hand in his hair.

Barry lets Ben slide off his panties, and spreads his legs invitingly under him. “Whatcha wanna do with me, babe?”

Ben leans down and slides open the drawer under his bed. “Any of these tickle your fancy?”

It’s what the guys have affectionately nicknamed Ben’s fuck drawer, full of dildos and plugs and cuffs and gags in as many colours and materials as any of them could count. Barry sits back up like a shot to have a look, and he’s spoiled for choice.

There’s a pretty glass plug, clear with whorls of pink shot through that matches his corset. It’s sizeable, though, long yet bulbous with a deep pink base, and Barry would be concerned, even if he wasn’t corseted, if he weren’t in Ben’s capable hands.

Ben fishes out the lube from the bedside drawer and coats his fingers in it, leaning Barry back down until he’s flat on his back and Ben can reach his hole easily, but not without a cheeky snap of his garters first.

The first couple of fingers aren’t a problem – it’s the least he does for himself, and he asks Ben for another fairly quickly. Three is a stretch, and Barry arches up off the bed as Ben scissors his fingers and nudges his prostate, making garbled noises as Ben goes back over it and presses his fingers in deeper.

“C’mon, Ben, more, gimme more, Ben–"

Ben gives him a look that means he’s waiting for something, and crooks his fingers again, making Barry jolt and moan sharply.

“Ben, _please_ –"

Ben pulls his fingers out slowly and picks up the plug, making sure Barry can see his every move as he covers the toy liberally with lube.

“Have you ever taken anything this big before, Baz?” Ben asks, suddenly very serious.

“Not this big, but close,” he replies.

Ben still looks concerned. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You won’t, trust me,” Barry says, though the size of it does scare him a little. He hopes none of his fear comes through in his voice, but Ben picks up on it anyway.

“Barry, you sure you’re okay?” Ben asks quietly, and Barry nods fervently.

“Please, Ben, I need it,” he whispers, equally as quiet, and Ben places his clean hand on Barry’s hip reassuringly as he begins to properly work Barry open with the plug.

The stretch is unlike anything Barry’s ever experienced. It’s gradual at first, and Barry wonders how he ever thought it could be that bad until Ben reaches the widest point and _holy shit it really is that big._

“Ben– wait–"

Ben stops immediately, rubbing a soothing hand on Barry’s waist and reaching for more lube, gently rubbing it over his rim and the rest of the plug. “You’re taking it so well, darling, you’re doing wonderfully, tell me when you’re okay to keep going.”

Barry warms at the pet name and takes a few breaths, as deep as he can with the corset restricting him, and Ben keeps his hands on him as he adjusts to the stretch.

Barry puts a hand on Ben’s where he’s holding the plug and pushes gently.

“Use your words, please, darling,” Ben hums.

“I want to keep going, please, Ben,” he says clearly, so there’s no room for misunderstanding.

Ben obliges, and Barry keeps his breathing even and takes it until he feels the narrow stem slip in and the base touch his perineum.

“Oh, well done, Baz,” Ben murmurs, a mix of pride and arousal in his voice. “Look at you, gorgeous.”

“Can–" Barry hesitates a second, unsure if Ben will indulge him. “Can we show Mike?”

Ben digs his phone out of his pocket almost instantly. “Make yourself look decently dishevelled.”

Barry spreads his legs to show off the plug sitting at his abused rim, and stretches his arm up over his face in the way Mike has made him pose so many times before, so his tattoo is on full display. It’s like Barry’s hallmark – he’s faceless, nameless, unidentifiable except for the Matterhorn on his arm.

Ben snaps a few photos, and Barry shifts, arches his back off the bed, rolls over to show off his arse, with Mike’s voice praising him in his head, telling him he’s such a pretty boy.

Ben sucks in a breath when Barry lifts his hips off the bed and flattens his chest to the mattress, spreading his knees and crossing his ankles demurely while proudly displaying the plug to the camera.

“Tell Mike,” Barry says as he rolls back over, “that I probably won’t make it to his after this, and that he needs to buy me a plug.”

“Or you could just keep on coming back here,” Ben says with a grin as he places his phone on the bedside table.

Barry pulls Ben down on top of him, feeling the press of Ben’s dick into his thigh.

“Will you fucking me be disillusioning after this plug comes out?”

“After all that, you want it out already?”

“No, but, like, I’m hard and I wanna be fucked.”

Ben rolls his eyes. “Needy little bitch.”

“Is that a yes?”

“It’s a not yet,” Ben answers, pressing at the base of the plug and stifling a laugh at Barry’s verbal mash of vowels.

Ben rocks the plug in and out of Barry, deliberately not touching his dick, until Barry is wound up and antsy and writhing under him, before undoing his belt and chinos and sliding off his underwear.

Barry raises an eyebrow. “Shirt off, Ebbers. If I’m here in nothing but my lingerie, you can strip down to the basics, too.”

Ben obligingly strips, and Barry whistles.

“How is it that you’re the one in a corset and tights with a plug up his arse and his face beat, but _I’m_ the one being objectified?”

“Shut up and fuck me, Ben,” Barry retaliates.

Ben tears open a condom with his teeth and rolls it on – he’s not as long as Mike, Barry notices, but he’s definitely thicker, which is probably good seeing as he’s just been stretched to the edges of his corset – before drizzling more lube into his dirty hand and spreading it along his length. A long, corkscrew-like motion, and Ben pulls the plug out, and Barry has a moment of feeling emptier than he ever has before Ben slides in.

He thinks that Ben would be a stretch for him on a normal day, but this is not a normal day, and so Ben fills him, but he doesn’t feel _full_ like the plug made him feel.

But what Ben has that the plug didn’t is another hand and the ability to move, and when Ben holds Barry’s hip with his clean hand and wraps the other lubed hand around his cock and begins to fuck him in earnest, Barry is a gone man.

Ben fucks him with quick, shallow thrusts, careful of how sensitive Barry is around the rim because of the plug, and matches the movement of his hand on Barry to the rhythm of his hips. The corset makes it hard for Barry to catch his breath, and the noises he makes sound choked, breathless, downright needy.

“Ben, Ben, I’m gonna, can I come, Ben, please–"

He doesn’t know why he asks permission, but Ben nods anyway, and Barry arches his back off the bed and comes into Ben’s hand, spunk dripping down his fingers as Ben follows him with a loud, shuddering moan.

Ben manoeuvres his sticky hand away from Barry’s corset and pulls out, and Barry finally feels empty. It’s weird, and Ben sees Barry’s discomfort, like he sees everything. He wipes his hand off with a tissue and ties off the condom, throwing them both into the bin and moving back in close to Barry.

“D’you want out of the corset, too?”

Barry makes a noise in the affirmative and rolls over gingerly. Ben unlaces him quickly and carefully, and rolls him back over to undo the busk.

Barry rolls off the corset and into Ben’s arms, and Ben rubs his abdomen with slightly calloused hands. It’s nice, makes the weird feelings in his muscles go away a bit, but he knows he’s still going to feel it tomorrow.

Ben breaks the silence unexpectedly.

“I really wish I could’ve used my rabbit vibe on you, Barry, because of the whole Jessica thing, but I’m not entirely sure how it’d work on a penis.”Ben frowns a little. “I’m not actually sure why I have it, come to think of it.”

“Aren’t rabbits meant for…not-penises?”

“That’s why I’m not sure why I have it.”

Barry laughs a little, and Ben presses his face into Barry’s back.

“You didn’t have to take me home, you know,” Barry says.

“I know,” Ben says. “But I did what any sane person would’ve done, right?”

“What, took me home and pounded my arse raw?”

Ben laughs again. “Don’t lie, _Jess_ , you liked it.”

Barry bats his arm gently. “Don’t call me Jess when I’m not in a wig.”

* * *

Barry fucks up during a battle, as he does often, and he feels like the situation warrants for a healthy whinge – the combination of his still-sore arse and creamy sauce splitting is, as far as he's concerned, catastrophic.

But just as he’s getting worked up, he hears, not just from Mike, but from Ben across the bench, “Shut up, Jess.”

“Now’s not the time for a little bitch-fit, you’re not in your wig,” Mike adds.

He wishes he could be more angry at them, but instead he just sticks out his tongue and flips them off.

“That’s not very ladylike of you,” Ben says, raising an eyebrow.

“When I see you cook in a corset, Ben, then I will give you free rein to give me shit. Until then,” he says, returning to trying desperately to save his sauce, “I am _infinitely_ more ladylike than you.”

“I think that’s one for the bloopers,” Jamie says to his camera.

**Author's Note:**

> uh shit who else do i have to write in this series aside from ot5? idk maybe i can do some double ups w/e
> 
> thanks to the sorted discord for stanning this series so hard
> 
> title is from take me on the floor by the veronicas. i can't sink any lower than this


End file.
